Bloody Hesitation
by Stariceling
Summary: What might have been going through Gaara's head when he visited Lee in the hospital. [You can find a hint of yaoi here if you tilt your head and really squint.]


Not my characters, though I hope to keep writing them, and playing with their heads. There are some almost-yaoi-ish hints here if you tilt your head and squint. I think they should be easy to ignore or not depending on your preference.

Note that this is manga-based. It doesn't mesh perfectly with what is shown in the anime, because some bits in the episode don't perfectly match the manga. --; (The most important difference is that the sand withdraws to Gaara's gourd right after Shikamaru and Naruto show up.) I ended up finally getting to see episode 58 a little while after I had written this and was already happy with it.

* * *

He imagined sand curling around that still body, enveloping it. Embracing him. Then the sudden pressure, crushing bones and tearing skin. Blood steeped bandages, blood stained sheets, blood soaking into the sand.

Yet it didn't happen. Gaara didn't move. Or rather, the sand didn't move. For a moment he could only see it in his mind.

Twice before he had lost the chance to capture Lee, to crush him and watch the blood drain from his still body. He could have ended their fight swiftly after Lee wore himself out, but it had been more enjoyable to toy with him. He had smelled the other boy's sweat and the blood marking dozens of tiny abrasions. He had practically felt the frantic pulse, the stubborn struggles of his prey, and he had not quite wanted it to end.

Gaara had not smelled fear until the very end. Not until Lee had tried to escape him and stumbled, unable to run or even crawl. It was something Gaara was so used to, seeing and hearing fear, smelling it. He had no particular desire for it, but it had startled him. Not that the fear had come, but that it had taken so long. He could have killed Lee then, too. He could have wrapped the sand around his torso, and crushed organs instead of limbs.

He should have. If he had made that the final blow, no one would have leapt in to interfere and cut him off from the life that was rightfully his to take. It would have been better to finish with one strike, not two. The fight had already ceased to be enjoyable, and he had been hurt all over, aching. He could have killed Lee then, and he could still kill him now.

He would kill him now.

Yet again, there was no smell of fear. Lee only slept, his face set. There was no human smell here, and not even the faintest smell of blood. All he could detect was the stinging scent of disinfectant. The place had been sterilized, and it seemed that Lee had been too.

Even if he couldn't smell Lee's blood now, he would in a moment. Gaara had to kill him. He was too different, too alien. Everything about him. . . his smile and his antics, his fists and feet, and most of all the way his teacher defended him. . . there was nothing there that didn't push Gaara to the point of pain. He would feel so much better, so much more real and whole, once Lee was dead.

His sand still seemed unable to move. As if there was nothing left in Lee, no threat for Gaara to home in on. In sleep, he seemed so close to death already. He almost seemed to have stopped breathing. What now? Gaara couldn't kill something that was already dead.

Gaara raised his hand over Lee's face, but the other boy did not gasp or flinch. He was completely still, unaware of the danger.

For three full breaths Gaara was still, watching. Lee's breaths were so deep and slow, so different from his quick, wild movements before. Gaara hesitated, because he did not think he could be satisfied with this. He had imagined having someone whole and energetic and possibly even a bit threatening to crush the life out of. This did not seem to be the same person.

At the same time, he would not be satisfied if he did not take Lee's life. He tensed his hand over Lee's face.

Slowly, sluggishly, the sand began to move. Gaara watched it creep onto the bed, sifting itself over and under clean sheets. It conformed to the still body, looping over Lee's chest and curling around the contour of his cheek. He was having to push it a little, and that wasn't normal, but Gaara didn't care as long as it was moving.

In another moment he would have Lee. He only needed to exert a little more force. . .

And then he was frozen. For one wild instant Gaara thought that he truly _couldn't_ kill Lee, aware only of his own paralysis and the unconscious boy before him.

Then a fist connected with his face, making him stumble. He moved with the blow, even though he had no control to move his own body. Though he managed to remain on his feet, there was the feeling that he was being held standing, that he couldn't have crumpled to the floor even if he had tried.

Gaara was filled with wrath for a moment. Knowing that he was being blocked from killing Lee yet again, when he wanted to so badly that it was more like a need. Then he realized something else about his attackers.

These two showed every sign of life. They were all worked up and perfectly irritating. Gaara let go of his thoughts toward Lee and allowed the sand to return to him, slipping quietly back into his gourd for the moment. Perhaps he would kill these two instead. They would make a good substitute for the slow-breathing near-corpse he had originally wanted.

He could always come back for Lee someday when there was more life in him. He only needed to wait, then he could truly find his existence in killing him. In fact, Gaara decided firmly on it. He would come back, specifically to enjoy killing Lee.


End file.
